Blood-Red Roses
by BonJeanne
Summary: Henry fell ill the day he met Elizabeth and now he's coughing up blood-red roses. A bit of a gore warning on this one, but nothing too graphic. I rated it T just to be safe.


A/N: Hello y'all! I got the idea to write this after I saw a few Hanahaki's Disease fics in other fandoms, and I figured we needed one too. This was supposed to be a short one-shot, but it kind of ran away from me. Apologies for the excessive number of page breaks. Afterwards, don't forget to review and let me know what you thought!

* * *

"Henry?" Elizabeth knocked on his door frantically. "Henry, please. If you don't open up in 10 seconds, I'm coming in." There was a faint sound, but it was distinct: gagging. With hands that shook with adrenaline, she took out her key and unlocked the door. She raced through the apparent and barged into the bathroom. "Oh, Henry," she gasped when she saw him. He was slumped over on the floor, blood-red rose petals scattered on the white tiles.

"Elizabeth," he choked out, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."

* * *

Henry's symptoms had started several months prior. It was subtle at first, taking him just a few moments longer than usual to catch his breath. His first coughing fit was after a particularly trying ROTC drill. He was in the locker rooms after everyone else had gone, double in half over a trash can as his lungs seized. After five minutes of trying and failing to breathe, a single rose petal fluttered down into the can.

That's when Henry knew it was Hanakahi's Disease. He'd heard of it from his mother (his father had claimed it was just an old wives' tale). She described friends who, after falling into an unrequited love, became ill. The disease followed a predictable course: first regular coughing, followed by body-wracking coughing fits. In its end stages, the victim would cough up petals, even entire flowers, before finally dying by suffocation induced by roots in the lungs.

There was a treatment, but only at a terrible cost: The roots could be removed through surgery, but then the victim could never feel love again. The only other hope for survival was if the person returned the victim's affections.

Henry remembered thinking as a young man that he wouldn't hesitate to get the surgery. But now that knew what it was like to be in love, death didn't seem that bad. At least, it seemed better than being doomed to live a life without love.

* * *

"We need to get you to a hospital." Elizabeth's voice cut through his flashback.

"No," he said solemnly. "I don't want to get surgery."

"But you'll die otherwise!" She cried in a high, frantic voice.

"I've accepted it."

"Well I haven't!" She lowered her voice and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. "I've lost too many people. I can't lose you too."

Guilt shot through Henry's heart. Maybe he could get the surgery for her. He wouldn't want to cause her more pain. "Elizabeth..."

"I'm not letting you die. There's got to be another way," she muttered. He turned away so she would see the tear that slid down his cheek. There was no need though, because her eyes were shut, brows knitted in concentration. "I've got it!" Her eyes snapped open, excitement glittering in her irises. "I'll take you to Rochana's place. You can apologize and maybe get back together! She'll be in love with you again. Then you'll be cured, right?"

"It's not Rochana," he sighed.

She frowned, confused. "Well then who is it?"

"You."

* * *

"Damn," Henry cursed upon finding the restaurant's doors locked.

"Are they closed?" a low but unmistakably feminine voice inquired from behind him. He turned and found himself facing a gorgeous young woman. She was slim and blonde with sparkling blue eyes and an equally dazzling smile.

"Yeah," he replied, once he remembered her question.

"Bummer," she said. She sighed; her breath visible in the cold night air illuminated by a nearby street lamp. "Well, I guess I'll just go to the ice cream shop."

"Ice cream shop?" he asked.

"Yeah. It's literally the only place open this late." She smiled shyly. "Wanna join?"

They made their way down the street to the ice cream shop, the only bright store front on the whole block. The only person in the shop was the middle-aged man who owned it and lived upstairs. He greeted her with a friendly, familiar wave.

"Hey, Bess. Haven't seen you in a while. The usual?"

"Yes please!" Seconds later, he handed her an overflowing cone with at least three different flavors and twice the number of toppings. "And for you, young sir?"

Henry glanced at the display case. "Just a single scoop of chocolate in a cone, please." The store owner looked between them curiously as if to say, "What a strange couple," but served him, nonetheless. Henry paid for them both, and she led him to a table in the corner of the shop.

"Elizabeth Adams," she said, extending her arm across the table. "Sorry I didn't introduce myself before."

"Henry McCord." He took her hand, giving it a firm shake. "Lovely to meet you." And just like that, the disease took hold.

* * *

"No, no, no," she wailed. "This is all my fault."

"Don't you dare blame yourself for this!" he growled.

"But you're sick because I-"

"Stop. You can't control your feelings any more than I can control mine."

"You don't get it! Ever since my parents died, I've been terrified of love. You've opened my heart so much since we first met, but I just can't quite get there."

"You will love again." He reached up to wipe the tears on her cheeks. "I prom-" His words were cut short by another coughing fit. Elizabeth helped him lean over a trash can as he expelled leaves, petals, and whole flowers. He probably only had a few hours left. Maybe a day if he was lucky.

"What can I do?"

"Just stay. Please?"

* * *

"Thank you for staying with me today," Elizabeth whispered into his shoulder.

"Of course. That's what friends do." Henry tightened his bear hug. "You have such a big heart. Don't be afraid of your emotions."

She smiled ruefully. "Easier said than done."

* * *

In the early hours of the morning, midnight blue began to lighten. On the horizon, streaks of pink promised a beautiful spring day. The day didn't feel so beautiful inside Henry's bathroom, though. Everything felt bleak and hopeless. He lied helplessly on Elizabeth's lap as she stroked his hair. The coughing fits were gone and replaced by labored breathing. Each breath was harder to draw than the last as the plant filled his lungs.

"Elizabeth..." he tried to say, but barely a wheeze came out.

She heard though. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry." Henry's breath shuttered and ceased. His grip on her hand relaxed; his eyes gazed up at hers without life.

"No," she murmured in disbelief. "No, no, no!" Each one increased in volume. "No!" she shouted and started shaking him. "Henry, you can't be dead!" Elizabeth sobbed, cradling his head. "I love you!"

Henry's hazel eyes snapped open, filled with disbelief and panic. With a sudden strength he hadn't had in days, he scrambled to the toilet, gripping the seat until his knuckles turned white. His body began to convulse as violent coughs contracted his lungs. A flurry of petals spilled out of his mouth.

There was a tickle at the back of his throat. He coughed again to get it out, but it was stubborn. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around from behind him, made a fist, and drove it upwards into his abdomen.

A full flower was expelled from his throat, but it was attached to a stem that was blocking his airway. Henry grabbed hold of the stem and gave it a sharp tug. The thorns tore at his throat as it came up. He would have screamed at the pain if his lungs and vocal cords were working. Instead, he had to keep pulling at the stem. It seemed stuck, as if the only way to fully remove the plant were to pull out his lungs with it. Time was running out: Black spots were beginning to cloud his vision from lack of oxygen. Redoubling his grip, he gave one more wrench to the stem. Finally, the roots came free.

Henry collapsed backwards and took Elizabeth with him. Gasping in relief, he breathed easier than he had since the day they met. He was heavy on top of her, but she didn't care. Her hand rested on his chest, seeking the steady _thump thump thump_ of his heart.

They lied like that for a while until Henry sat up which was just about when both her legs went numb. He offered his hand to her, helping her stand. She swayed when she got up and clung to his forearm for balance.

"Tired?" he asked.

Elizabeth yawned as the sleepless night caught up to her. "Very. But we have a lot to talk about."

"Nap now. Talk later."

* * *

A/N part 2: This fic desperately needs a chapter two because they really need to talk and it really needs to be angsty, but I suck at both updates and angst. I think it will happen eventually, though. Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed, let me know what you thought in the reviews!

Updates on other stories of mine (if people were wondering)- Something Real is being stubborn. I'm sorry. A Long Way From Home is actually close to getting an epilogue, and I actually opened the doc of Expose for the first time in months, so maybe an update in the semi-near future?


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